Gender Stereotypes and the Art of Dance
by Madam Callisto
Summary: Troy learns that there is nothing manlier than a man who's not afraid to dance.


"Where are you guys going?" Annie asked.

Troy and Britta froze in place, caught red-handed as they attempted to silently back their way out the study room. Now the four other pairs of eyes were glued to them questioningly. "Nowhere," Troy said, "Nothing, we're-not-doing-anything-in-secret-where are _you_ going?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Troy," Annie said in confusion, "Not until the study session is over. We _do_ have a Biology test coming up."

"Well, we have a...thing to get to." Britta said. Troy looks at the clock. If they don't leave now they won't make it there before someone claims it.

"What kind of thing?" Annie pressed, her eyes narrowing. She knew when a question was being avoided.

"Knock it off with the detective stuff Annie," Jeff said, "Troy and Britta are grown-ups they can handle being alone together."

Annie's eyebrows knitted together slowly as Jeff's words sank in. "Oh!" She said finally, "Then you guys are...?'

"Yes! We-are-going-to-go-make-out-now." Troy said stiffly, smiling so that he showed off all of his teeth.

"Yeah, that's totally what we were going to do." Britta with a nod. She took Troy's hand in hers and began to back the two of them out of the room again, "We might even consummate things. In a sexual way—"

"Okay! Okay! Britta, I didn't need to hear that!" Annie said covering her ears.

Troy and Britta all but ran the rest of the way out of the study room and into the empty auditorium, hands clasped firmly together.

"Do you think they suspected anything?" Troy asked.

"Nahh, we were pretty smooth," Britta said. The two of them caught their breath, "Are you ready?"

Troy pulled his tear-away pants off a quick yank, revealing the tight spandex pants he wore underneath, "Ready."

Britta took one Troy's hands, placing the other on his hip, and Troy placed his free hand on her shoulder, "5-6-7-8!"

* * *

The first time someone had walked in on him dancing had been awkward.

"Hey Troy."

Troy froze mid twirl, his arms knocked over the lamb by his head as he quickly brought them back to his side. He looked back and forth around the study room but luckily it was empty except for Abed, staring at him in his usual non-judgmental way. He was probably the only person on the planet who wouldn't be bothered by the sight of Troy standing on his toes like a ballerina.

"Abed! Crap," He said, making half a move toward the broken lamp, then giving up, "Abed! This isn't what it looks like!"

"You were celebrating your grade on the last Spanish test, right?"

"No I—uh, well, yeah. I guess that was it."

"Okay then," Abed said, and with that he took his seat down on the empty couch in the study room, "Don't mind me."

Troy couldn't get himself to meet Abed's eyes, "You don't think this is…weird?" He hadn't known Abed for that long, but there was no way that he could really be cool with Troy doing something so stereotypically unmanly. He couldn't be that awesome, could he?

"Not really. You kinda came off as the stereotypical dumb, tough-guy, jock character without that much depth to you up till now, but I guess I was right and you've really got layers to you. It's nice to know that you're interesting."

"You…you can't be serious?" Troy said, "Wait—dumb, tough-guy, jock?"

"I usually am serious. I'm not very good at telling joke, apparently. You'll probably learn that."

Troy stared at Abed, waiting for some sign in his big brown, bug-like eyes that he might be joking and was actually judging him in secret. Abed tilted his head slightly to the side, not blinking as Troy looked him. This was clearly some kind of test of character that he needed to pass in order to advance their friendship. Abed didn't intend to fail it.

"You won't tell anyone then?" Troy asked.

"Promise." Abed said.

"Promise." Britta said snickering.

"Britta! How long have you been there?!" Troy covered his body in a panic.

"Long enough," Britta said, eyeing Troy up and down slowly, "That was pretty manly."

"I know it's embarrassing—"

"I'm not joking, "Britta said smiling. The look in her eyes made Troy's skin all tingly, "I don't mean the shallow chauvinistic kind of manly that western culture is so proud of, I mean _really _manly."

"Thanks." Troy said, uncovering himself a little bit. Not completely though, Britta's eyes still looked a little molester-y.

"You're welcome," She said smuggly, "Carry on." She turned and left, leaving Troy and Abed in the empty study room.

"See, Britta agrees." Abed said.

"Yeah, whatever," Troy mumbled, "It's not like I need _Britta's _approval."

* * *

It wasn't like they'd planned things to end up like this. It's just been the natural progression of things after their tap performance.

The second time it happens, Troy is still wearing a ladies pant-suit.

Nobody pays them nearly as much attention this time since they're at a dance. It's not like it's strange or anything after all. Why wouldn't two super attractivepeople who were totally platonic friends take advantage of a dance floor?

They wouldn't.

They'd dance their attractive, platonic, butts off.

So they did, and it was pretty different that time.

Britta didn't look like she was a few seconds away from crapping her pants, and the rest of the study group was with them too. It was fun, forgetting the factthat Chang had all but molested him and Pierce earlier that day. Instead he got to focus on dancing, and the fact that Britta's dress was really, really short.

It was a pretty good Valentine's Day.

Troy hadn't really thought much about what it was like to dance with Britta since their performance in front of the school of few weeks earlier, but something about watching the blonde try to raise-the-roof like the awkward drunk girl at a high school party was even more fun than he thought it would be. He didn't even mind the stupid outfit he was wearing nearly as much when Britta was dancing on him like that. And afterwards Britta complemented him on being able to keep up with her.

And on having an ass that looked pretty good in his ladies pant-suit.

* * *

"Troy, I have never felt more for the plight of urban youths than I do now." Britta said, laying on her stomach on the grass. It was probably a bit late to be just be laying out on the campus drinking as much scotch as Britta was, but they'd both had a pretty long day.

"By 'urban youth', do you black kids?" Troy asked.

"I mean any kind of culture that perpetuates the usage of a switch to punish a child for—"

"Britta," Troy said, passing an ice pack to her, "didn't I warn you that my grandma was evil?"

"No, she isn't evil! She's just comes from a different time and is misunderstood!" Britta dropped the ice pack down onto her butt.

"I've meet plenty of old people who don't go throwing people of their knees! Old people are supposed to knit you sweaters, giving you expired hard candies, and wait for your phone calls, not whip you!"

"I'm not gonna judge a different way of life from up on a pedestal like some closed off 1st world, rich girl—"

"—damn it Britta—"

Britta rolled over onto her side so she was facing Troy, "Are you crying?"

"No…_you're_ crying…" Troy sniffled loudly.

Britta sighed and rolled all the way over with a wince, "I don't blame you, she really is scary," she grabbed Troy's hand and pulled herself up off the grass, "I'd think I'd like to pretend this entire day didn't happen and that I didn't get beaten by an old woman with a stick."

Troy sniffed, "I don't know about that," he said, still holding onto Britta's hand, "not all of today's been awful."

"Maybe not— Troy, what are you doing?!"

"Huh?" Troy stopped shifting back and forth, "Nothing—Nothing weird."

"Were you dancing?"Britta said, smiling down at him with satisfaction.

"Well…yeah," Troy hung his head, "Sometimes my body just sorta _moves._"

Britta snorted loudly, "But you dance all the time in front of other people. Why the random shyness?"

Troy cleared his throat, "You know how I'm more in touch with my emotions since I'm a man?"

"Sure." Britta nodded.

"I guess…Jeff has his super lawyer speeches, and Abed can just sorta look at people, and I guess you go on your judge-y speeches, but I'm not really good at all that stuff. So sometimes, when I need to say things, I dance."

"Oh."

"Do you remember that time you called my feet long and stupid? Yeah, I danced until like three in the morning that day. I know, I know, it's pathetic and weird and-"

"—Really hot." Britta said, grabbing hold of Troy's other hand, "Come on, Troy, let's dance until the cruelties of urban life make sense."

Troy stood open mouthed for only about half a second before he joined Britta in poorly (or as Britta put it, expressive) interpretive dance.

* * *

The next time isn't really about something as major as Britta getting herself beaten up by a handicapped old lady.

One minute they've all passed Spanish by some miracle, the next, Troy and Britta are krumping down the hallway.

It ends up being a normal thing after that. Troy does well on an essay, they salsa behind the study room, Britta successfully berates a person out of wasting their time voting (no option was right when you're voting for government), and they're plié-ing though the library (in a totally manly way). It's just something they end up doing, for good things and bad things alike. They just find each, sneak away, and dance until they've gotten it all out of their system.

* * *

Troy turned so his back was towards Britta and dropped down, letting Britta catch him in her weirdly muscular arms. They froze, posing gracefully as they finished their routine.

"Pheew, that was pretty good," Britta said once Troy was back on his feet, "We're getting way better at this."

"Totally."

"So what are we celebrating?" Britta asked, "Did you get another C-?"

Troy laughed, "If only."

"Oh, did Jeff say something stupid?—I'm not afraid to punch him out."

"Nah, I just…felt like dancing with you, I guess." Troy said.

"I guess that's fine then." The tops of Britta's ears turned the tiniest bit pink.

"This is kind of a boring sub-plot." Abed said as he munched on his bag of Cheetos. He'd been sitting in the back of the auditorium watching them go at it for nearly an hour. He was the only person who really knew about their hobby. The first time the two of them had shown up in the study room after dance, he'd sensed it on them.

"You could just not watch us then," Britta said, turning a little more red under Abed's stare.

"Fine, I think Leonard and Magnitude are having a dance-off down in the dorms anyway. Should be more interesting than a plain old romantic side story." Abed got up to leave.

"Bye Abed," Troy shouted after him, "Tell me how it goes!"

"We are _not _a boring sub-plot." Britta said, once Abed had left.

"Course not," Troy said dismissively, "We're a super exciting one. Anyway Britta, do you think maybe I can do the guys part next time?"

"It's absurd that the 'Man's Part' should be the leading role," Britta started angrily, "Why should the woman have to follow around her man? What is this 1950?"

"I know, but I am…" Troy stopped when he caught the look in her eyes. It didn't seem to be aimed at him so much as it was aimed at his entire gender, "Never mind let's start again; I think maybe we should work on you spinning me."

"'Cause it's your favorite part?" Britta said, all the tension vanishing from her voice.

"Yeah, 'Cause it's my favorite part."

**END**


End file.
